One-Click Buy: December 2009 Silhouette Desire

by Susan Mallery

  No doubt she was heading for heartbreak, falling for Callum. It was stupid. Totally insane. Yet she couldn’t help herself.

  And she would allow herself no regrets.

  This was her last chance to seize a slice of happiness for herself. It wouldn’t last. But she would enjoy it while it did. Because it would be over too soon—she knew that. As surely as she knew that Callum Ironstone would not fall in love with someone like her. He would find someone with the class and the social connections he needed. Not an embezzler’s daughter living under the fog of her father’s notoriety.

  They entered the dining room, and her gaze settled on Petra. Someone like Petra Harris.

  The blonde glanced across at them.

  Miranda read the bruised hurt in Petra’s pale eyes as she took in their interlinked fingers. For Petra it had never been about business interests. The woman really had loved Callum, she realized. Then her gaze shifted to the man seated beside Petra at the breakfast table. She took in Gordon Harris’s tight lips. For Petra’s father it had been about business. And he looked none too pleased.

  Hunter greeted them first. “We started without you. Mother decided you two must’ve gone for a walk again and lost track of time.”

  Miranda felt herself grow red. Thankfully Pauline wasn’t in the dining room, and she didn’t have to answer any polite questions about how their walk had gone. She didn’t dare look at Callum as he held a chair out for her before sliding into the empty seat at her side.

  “I promised to take Lindsey down to the craft fair in the village.” Jack rose to his feet.

  “Can we go, too?” Anna turned to Hunter. “Please?”

  Hunter rolled his eyes. “What have you got me into?” he demanded of his brother as he pushed his chair back.

  Within minutes the dining room had emptied. Only the Harrises—and Fraser—remained.

  “Gordon wants to schedule some time with you this morning, Callum,” Fraser told his brother as he, too, got to his feet.

  “We can talk after breakfast,” replied Callum, lifting a pot of aromatic coffee. After Petra had refused the offer of a cup, he said, “Coffee, Miranda? Or would you prefer tea?”

  Or me?

  Miranda could’ve sworn the invitation was in his wickedly glinting eyes. “Coffee,” she said huskily, all too conscious of the effect he had on her as he filled first her cup then his.

  Gordon’s mouth was suddenly grim. “After breakfast will do. I was starting to think you might be otherwise occupied.” He glanced meaningfully at Miranda.

  Callum stilled, then carefully set the coffeepot down.

  Petra put a hand on her father’s arm. “Daddy—”

  “No, Petra.” Gordon shook his daughter’s hand off. He turned in his seat. “Callum, I had hoped the relationship between our families would be more than business. I had hoped…” He paused.

  “Daddy, please.”

  Petra looked mortified. A shaft of pity for the other woman pierced Miranda. Wasn’t it enough that she was hurting already? Did her father have to humiliate her, too?

  She shot Callum a pleading look. Couldn’t he do anything to stop this? His arm came across the back of her chair, and his hand rested possessively on her shoulders. “Gordon, I think—”

  “Petra would make you a very suitable wife. Much better than she ever would.”

  The anger in his gaze stupefied Miranda.

  “I can’t believe that you broke it off with Petra for her. Think whose daughter she is. The fruit doesn’t fall far from the vine. Will you ever be able to trust her?”

  “Daddy!”

  Callum’s body had coiled tight, and Miranda could feel the tension radiating from him. Suddenly she felt decidedly ill.

  “Yes, I can trust her,” Callum bit out.

  Oh, heavens. Miranda grew cold. Trust her?

  Callum’s free fist hit the edge of the table with a loud bang. Both Miranda and Petra jumped. Callum glared at Gordon. “Frankly, I wasn’t intending to spend the morning closeted in meetings. And, yes, I had intended to spend the day with Miranda, who is one of the nicest women I’ve ever had the fortune of dating.”

  Miranda sighed. Poor Petra.

  “So you can be the first to congratulate us, Gordon.”

  “First to congratulate you?”

  Gordon’s shocked expression echoed Miranda’s own shock.

  Callum’s hand tightened on her shoulder. “We’re getting married.”

  “Married?” A gasp of delight came from the door.

  Miranda closed her eyes as Pauline hurled herself across the room.

  “Oh, Callum, I heard a thump and thought something must have broken. But this is wonderful. Just wait until I tell your father.”

  Oh, help. What in heaven’s name had Callum done?

  As Callum closed the door of the study behind them ten minutes later, Miranda wrenched herself out of his hold. “What possessed you to say such a dumb thing to Gordon in there? I feel like such a fool.”

  “Hey, it’s not that bad,” he said, the protective streak that he hadn’t known existed still strong as he crossed the room to stand beside her. “I—”

  “I told you that I didn’t want to lie any further to your family.” She covered her face with her hands and her curls bobbed. “Now your parents think we’re getting married. At least your brothers haven’t heard. You can tell them it’s a stupid misunderstanding.”

  “Why?” Callum could see his bald question had thrown her.

  She dropped her hands and stared at him. “Your parents like me. Once they hear that you only said it to protect me from Gordon’s nastiness, they’ll understand.” Then her mouth formed an O. “Of course, you can’t do that, can you? Gordon is an important shareholder. That’s the whole reason your brought me along this weekend—to stop exactly the kind of scenario that just occurred in the dining room from taking place.”

  Callum crossed the distance between them in two long strides. Catching her by her shoulders, he growled down at her. “Listen to me. I wouldn’t allow anyone to talk to you like that—and I don’t care that he’s a shareholder.”

  She tipped her head back. “That’s very noble, but—”

  “It’s not noble. I—”

  He stilled. He’d almost said, I want to marry you.

  Callum froze. He couldn’t propose marriage just to stop Miranda feeling humiliated by Gordon’s attack—even though he’d been tempted to punch the man in the jaw instead of banging the table.

  Yet in the past he’d asked her to marry him to be his hostess….

  That reason was no better. Damn it, he wanted her to marry him for himself.

  The bombshell thought shocked him rigid.

  Why?

  Because she was special. Like no other woman he’d ever met.

  “Of course it was noble.” She was looking at him like he’d done something heroic.

  He shook his head to clear it. “I was angry. He was insulting you.”

  “No one has ever defended me like that before.”

  He didn’t suppose they had. Miranda had always protected her mother and brother. There’d been no one to protect her. His chest expanded with emotion. “That’s about to change.”

  She laughed, and the bittersweet sound caught at his gut.

  “Callum, he didn’t say anything that both you and I know isn’t true. Petra would make you a fabulous wife. And given the fact that my father stole from you, then committed suicide, it’s true that will make me a scandalous girlfriend.”

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  “It does matter.” Her eyes had gone dark. “And how can you trust me?”

  “Miranda—”

  A knock sounded on the door.

  Callum marched over and yanked it open. “What?” he demanded of Fraser.

  “Have you seen Petra?”

  “No,” he snapped, and started to close the door in Fraser’s face.

  His brother stuck a foot in the crack. “You let me
believe she broke it off with you.”

  “Not now.” He glared at this brother. “Leave us in peace.”

  Fraser removed his foot, and this time Callum closed the door with a determined thud.

  Miranda had moved to the window. She stood looking at the view over Lake Windermere down at the bottom of the property, the sag of her shoulders revealing how troubled she was.

  Tenderness filled him. “Stop fretting.”

  She turned to meet his gaze over her shoulder. “Trust me, I have reason to fret. Every single thing that Gordon said was true.” She shook her head as she started to object. “I like your parents so much. I was looking forward to coming back with you, riding the horses.” She gestured at the paddocks visible to one side of the house.

  At the yearning in her voice, cold fingers of dread danced over his skin.

  Did he want this? A woman who loved his horses, his home, his family…but not him? Out in the corner of the paddock he could see Red pawing through the snow. In a flash of insight he saw what marrying him would mean—it would give Miranda back everything she’d lost and finally assuage his guilt.

  And he’d get the woman he wanted more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

  Callum sucked in a breath. He crossed the room, and slid his arms around her shoulders from behind and drew her to his chest.

  Beneath his palms the woolen cardigan she wore was soft, and he could feel the rise and fall of her rib cage as she breathed. His fingers crept forward. Below the cardigan, the edge of her wraparound dress had parted and his fingertips brushed her bare skin. Need swamped him. God. Just by breathing she made him desire her. He resisted the fierce urge to yank her up against his hardening body. Now was not the time.

  The thought he’d had when he’d woken with her in his arms this morning returned.

  This woman belonged with him.

  He stared blindly over her shoulder at a red-breasted robin chirping in the undergrowth beneath the window.

  If she married him, he would have her in his bed each night instead of seeing her only through functions she catered for him—or through communications about her brother. Surely this was a win-win situation?

  So why wasn’t he asking, begging, her to marry him?

  Because this wasn’t what he wanted.

  He wanted Miranda to love him.

  And there was no chance of that ever happening.

  With a hop, the robin he’d been staring at vanished into the undergrowth, bringing Callum back to life. His hands dropped from her shoulders. He felt the loss of the softness of her skin acutely.

  He loved her.

  God.

  Despite the success of his parents’ marriage he’d always known that love wasn’t easy or straightforward, and that it would make an emotional mess of him—and he’d been right. Good thing she didn’t know how he felt.

  But he had to ask again. Give her the opportunity to accept what he could give her. Because then he’d get what he wanted more than life. Her.

  Callum drew a shuddering breath. “Miranda, you really could marry me—and make my dumb suggestion a reality.” He directed the words at golden curls that cascaded down the back of her head, relieved he didn’t have to meet her eyes. This way she would never know how desperately he craved to hear her say yes. “We would go downstairs and celebrate our engagement. What do you say?”

  Miranda spun around.

  Callum was asking her to marry him? There was an expression in his eyes that caused her heart to ache.

  A flutter of hope made her stretch out her hand to touch his chest—to check he was real, that this wasn’t a dream.

  The tension of the moment was shattered by the jazzy “Jingle Bells” ringtone of her phone in her cardigan pocket. Definitely no dream. Life had intruded.

  Miranda hesitated. It might be Adrian, calling her back after terminating their call yesterday, but she didn’t want to speak to him. Not now, not while Callum was asking her to marry him. Not when she knew Gordon was right. She had been less than trustworthy. Her stomach clenched.

  “Answer it.”

  Reluctantly she hauled it out of her pocket, but by that time the ringing had stopped. She stared at the screen and her heart sank. “It was Adrian.”

  “Do you want to call him back?”

  She shook her head. “I called him yesterday—he’s probably just returning my call.” No point telling Callum her brother had hung up on her because she’d wanted permission to tell Callum the truth.

  As she was about to pocket the phone, it started to ring again, loud and intrusive. Faced with no choice under Callum’s expectant gaze, she answered it.

  Impatient now, Callum thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers and turned away to stare back out the window, trying not to listen to Miranda’s conversation with her brother. He searched for the robin but couldn’t find it.

  Miranda was going to accept his proposal. He’d seen it in her eyes.

  The corners of his mouth turned up as he anticipated Fraser’s surprise. Callum would be the first of the Ironstones to marry. For once he would’ve beaten his brothers at something life-changing. There was some small masculine satisfaction in that.

  Behind him Miranda’s voice lowered, catching his attention.

  “I can’t talk about that, Adrian. Not now.”

  What was going on? What did she need to speak to her brother about that she couldn’t say in front of him?

  Frowning slightly, he swiveled to face her.

  She gave him a fleeting, sideways glance from beneath those long, dark lashes and turned away. “Thank you for that. I appreciate it more than I can tell you.” A silence. Then, “Yes, I know it’s hard for you, but it has to be done. I must go. I’ll call you later.”

  Was Adrian in some kind of trouble? Callum told himself the suspicion was unfounded.

  Except…there was that air of discomfort.

  When she clicked the phone shut he asked, driven by a compulsion he couldn’t name, “What’s wrong?”

  Her lashes fluttered down. She drew a deep breath, looked up and said in a rush, “Adrian’s being blackmailed.”

  Twelve

  “What?” Callum’s eyebrows jerked together into a ferocious frown. “What do you mean Adrian’s being blackmailed?”

  Miranda forced herself to hold his gaze. Inside she was trembling. I can trust her. Callum’s words rang in her ears. He wouldn’t want anything to do with her after this. She wouldn’t blame him for reneging on his proposal.

  “The day you called me to see you, I found out after our meeting that Adrian had crashed—” she hesitated “—a car.”

  “Yes?”

  “I didn’t want to tell you because you’d said you were pleased with him.” Miranda spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I was afraid it would jeopardize his chances of getting a great reference from a vacation job.”

  “But what does that have to do his job? Or being blackmailed? Was someone killed? Did he fail to report it?” Callum looked bewildered.

  “No, no one died.” Thank heavens! “But he’d borrowed the car without permission.” She bit her lip. “It was one of your company’s cars.”

  Callum’s eyes turned to slits. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

  “He was scared you would fire him…and have him arrested and charged with theft.”

  He didn’t blink.

  Unnerved by the relentless stare, she blurted out, “So he found a panel beater who could fix the car in a hurry and managed to get it back into the car yard before anyone noticed.”

  Still Callum said nothing.

  Miranda started to tremble. “And now the panel beater says if Adrian doesn’t pay him more, the man is going to blow the whistle on Adrian and tell his supervisor.”

  “And you’ve known about this all the time?”

  The lethally soft tone caused Miranda’s throat to close. She nodded, unable to speak.

  His relentless blue eyes bored into hers. “
You believed I would have had him arrested?”

  She thought about that. Did she really believe he would have Adrian arrested?

  “You’ve done it before,” she pointed out in her own defense. But her father’s crime had been so much worse. “And you must remember I believed that you’d had no reason back then. And this time I knew Adrian had actually taken—” she couldn’t bring herself to say stolen “—your car. At the start I didn’t think you’d have any compassion for him.”

  Callum turned away. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  Had that been pain she’d glimpsed in his eyes?

  But that would have to mean that she was capable of hurting him and she knew she wasn’t. He saw her merely as someone who would make his business life easier—a memory from the night before came to her—and someone he desired.

  She blinked back the tears that threatened. This wasn’t going to work out. Ever. Better she cut her losses and leave.

  “So I suppose that means you aren’t going to marry me after all.” His mouth was compressed.

  “I don’t think it would ever work,” she said, and the ache of loss spread through her, drowning her in sadness.

  The drive back to London took forever.

  Miranda was conscious of Callum’s hands gripping the steering wheel. They’d stopped twice—briefly—but neither lingered; both of them were eager to get back to London.

  There was a constant ache below Miranda’s heart. Christmas was over. And so was any brief accord she and Callum had shared. Heaven help her, she’d enjoyed playing Callum’s girlfriend. She had come so close to a chance to make it real. And she suspected the ache eventuated from her knowledge that it could never be real. Any relationship between her and Callum had been doomed before it could get started.

  Finally the car turned into the narrow street where she lived. As soon as it drew to a halt, Miranda leaped out. “Thanks—”

  But Callum was already at the trunk, taking out her overnight bag and the baskets, now filled with a collection of empty containers and kitchenware.

  “Let me take that.” He relieved her of the handle of her overnight bag. At the top of the steps, he paused. “Miranda—”